Prompt: Write a broke poem

How I Know I’m Not Broken

Last week, a glass slipped from my soapy
hands and shattered across the kitchen floor.

I swept up fragments and chunks from each corner
and even used the vacuum hose to swallow

the last of the invisible bits. But yesterday,
bare feet found a forgotten shard

near the electric stove. I felt the sting,
but the slice of pain didn’t break the skin.

Just like today, when I said your name
without wincing as the letters left my lips.

~Pamela L. Taylor © 2013